


Wendy Shorts

by nandroidtales



Category: Emmy The Robot (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandroidtales/pseuds/nandroidtales
Kudos: 1





	Wendy Shorts

Wendy Kiss (Alt Ending)  
>"Is it true," the man asked, pleading. His eyes were narrow, savage, begging for it not to be. "Abnormal attraction...?"  
>"Mark, I-," she stuttered, "You- You *know* I can't answer that..."  
>He glared at the robot, her deep red hair, her gentle, verdant eyes and that green, green dress  
>His throat thickened, swelling as his eyes moistened and stared back at the robot  
>She slipped backwards, afraid now, the man's eyes wild and manic  
>She tried to flee, to escape the coming outmode report, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close- no more running, she knew  
>Struggling he grasped her head, warm hands affixed to her temples as he smashed his face against hers  
>It was amateur, glancing (smearing, more like) and out of practice  
>But there was warmth behind it, a heat, no, a fire she hadn't felt from him until now  
>He swung his hands to her back and pulled her close  
>In between smooches on her face he whispered her name  
>"Wendy, Wendy," he muttered, practically squeezing the life out of her  
>She laid her hands on his chest, the heavenly thump of his heart beating against her narrow fingers  
>She balled his button-up in her hands and pulled herself into it, winded as she returned the kiss in full  
>Wrapping her hands around his neck, ruffling his short hair, she yanked herself forward  
>The mechanical muscle of her tongue broke into his mouth first, wrecking the place with a primitive apeishness she wouldn't even expect from humans  
>But she loved it, every slobbery second and moan of intense love between the two reeling her deeper in  
>Their fit of oral combat finished they held each other, on the edge of tears and so much more  
>"I love you," Mark managed to cough out  
>"I love you too, skipper."  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wendy and Mark Maintenance  
>”Alright, Nora’s been put to bed,” Wendy breathed  
>Sauntering up behind her man she laid a hand across his warm back, heat radiating up and out through his dense wool sweater  
>”Perfect,” the man smiled, unfolding a schematic in front of him. “Ready Wendy?”  
>”You bet.”  
>She pulled her hand away, already missing the heat on her fingers as she hopped up opposite him  
>Cheeks simmering she pulled her favorite sweater over her head, hair ruffling to her dismay  
>Guiding a few stray strands away from her emerald eyes she grinned sheepishly at the man, a priceless smile as she let his eyes wash over her frame  
>”It’s cold,” she shivered, running her hands up and down. “I miss that sweater already!”  
>”Hey,” the man cooed, popping the first latches on her torso, “I’ll keep you warm.”  
>The gust of breath on her neck sent her heart aflutter, pseudolung panting in anticipation  
>*Maintenance*  
>It had been their little ritual for months now, Nora early to bed (to the young lady’s chagrin) and the other two sneaking away hand in hand to the living room  
>Mark would read off little snippets and factoids from her manual, Wendy’s cheeks flaring higher as she waved off the flattery  
>The bulbs inside raged crimson by the time her torso-assembly was fully exposed, the man plying plates away to get to her machinery  
>”Alright, first,” he began, “dusting.”  
>Pressing a miniscule horse-hair brush beyond the threshold of her missing composite plates he swished to and fro, the robot peeping in time to his direction  
>With each tender sweep a fuzzy cloud of static built around the individual hairs, the odd bits of dust inside clinging to it  
>Pulling the brush away a crackle jumped to her spinal strut and zapped a yelp out of her  
>Wendy’s hands shot to her mouth, cheeks sparking higher  
>”*Gentler*,” she scolded. “You’re like a *raccoon* sometimes Mark!”  
>Nodding the man continued, making sure to drift a finger in and relieve the static pressure as he’d forgotten, hoping to save the energy for a tap on her shoulder later  
>Reaching in a painful arc jumped to the gold band snug around his finger and the hand yanked back, Wendy stifling little snickers at his expense  
>He squinted impishly at her, brushing hard along her secondary struts and smiling like a madman  
>Arching backward she threw a hand behind her for support, head spinning from his renewed assault  
>”Ah- S-slower, skip,” she mumbled, trying desperately to arrest her voice  
>”Just a little more, honey,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the *size* of this dustbunny.”  
>”Wai- ah!”  
>He probed another finger in, squeezing past her primary power supply to yank the offending ball of lint out  
>”Lookit the size of it,” he beamed, “I mean- ope!”  
>A hand shot for his cheek, pulling his head up to meet her eyes  
>”*Mark*,” she chided. “What have I said about listening?”  
>Staring back he knew she was serious, sylvan eyes piercing his own and deeper to his vulnerable conscience  
>”Right, sorry,” he offered, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry- please, I-”  
>”Hey, hey,” she cooed, resting her nose on his forehead. “Just follow my directions, okay?”  
>”Okay,” he murmured, light fading from his face  
>”Aw, c’mon- lemme see it.”  
>Producing the sizeable mass in his pinched fingers she almost rocked back again, stifling a laugh at the month’s accumulation of dust  
>”One for the record books?”  
>”One for *Ripley’s*,” she grinned. “Now, about taking direction better, I think Nora stressed my shoulder a bit from the show last week...”  
>Standing up and trading tools in his burly hands he gently spun Wendy on the planed tabletop  
>”Alright Dee, which shoulder?”  
>”Both,” she groaned, rolling her arms back  
>A quiet jingling stopped the left’s smooth roll, Wendy wincing at the stoppage  
>”Alright, coming in hot…”  
>Screwdriver in hand he popped the narrow access channel open, eyeing carefully the single-file bearings inside  
>Pulling the cover away a single ball popped out and disappeared into the carpet  
>”Shoot, hold on-”  
>”Don’t worry, vacuum’ll get it! I need your undivided attention anyways, *skipper*.”  
>”Yes ma’am,” he peeped  
>Pulling the rattling box of bearings over he plucked an orb from the roiling mass, tenderly dropping it into place beside its siblings  
>”Oop!”  
>”Alright, now try.”  
>Swinging her arm forward the rattle and squeak disappeared, a spritz of lubricant joining the bearings in action together   
>Clipping the cover back in place he slid to her other shoulder  
>”And what’s the trouble here, miss?”  
>”Same deal, sir,” she giggled. “A bit of tightness.”  
>”Well let’s have a look-see then…”  
>Gently tweaking the other cover away he was met with an immaculate sequence of little metal spheres, all lined up and rolling along in unison  
>”Hey, uh, can you roll your shoulder some more?”  
>The joint slid around near-perfectly save for a hitch one turn in, a miniscule yank to the motion of the twirling ball  
>”Oop!”  
>”That it?”  
>”Y-Yeah.”  
>”Closin’ in… got it!”  
>Worming his fingers around he grabbed a long pink string  
>Pulling it the thread mazed between the bearings it had trapped, Wendy squeaking as he brought it away  
>”Goodness Wendy, surprised you haven’t plucked that sweater apart yet!”  
>”Watch it, Mark.”  
>”Alright, alright,” he retreated. ”Just a few more stops.”  
>Rounding her head he quickly checked her ears, swishing her hair aside   
>Her charging port clear he traced his way down her arms finding nothing more amiss, her legs just as pristine  
>”Any trouble in the hip joints, miss?”  
>”I’m afraid not, *perv*,” she tittered  
>”I’ll have to take your word for it... Now, about that last step-”  
>”Yep, on it.”  
>Peeling the last of her plates away she bore herself down to the naked frame, cheeks alight and dancing in Mark’s walnut eyes  
>Lifting a slim can of compressed air he worked his way from her fingertips to the shoulder again, a puff here and a puff there tidying her limbs and cables  
>Each tickle of air forced a hand to Wendy’s mouth, trying to hold back the bubbling giggles at each windy sweep  
>Finally, after an agonizingly comedic cleaning, Mark set to work clipping her plates back into place, the silent glide of plastic over plastic music to both their ears  
>Wendy yanked her sweater overhead, taking care to keep it clear of her snapping shoulder  
>”Time for bed?”  
>Mark glanced at the oven clock, green letters screaming it was far too early for that  
>Grinning he swooped behind the robot   
>”Not just yet.”  
>Scooping Wendy up in his arms, her lithe hands pulling at his chest in futile resistance, he carried her triumphantly off to their bedroom  
>”Hey,” she spat, “what’d I say about-”  
>”Listening. I’m listening, Dee.”  
>”Then put me down!”  
>”I’m gonna choose not to listen to that.”  
>”And I'm gonna choose not to do *that thing you like*.”  
>His eyes shot wide, flipping her vertical again and setting her down  
>”Thank you, skipper. Now, *bedtime*.”  
>”Wait, what?”  
>”You heard me,” she purred, wrapping a hand around his waist and pushing him into their room. “I think I’d like a second opinion on my hips.”


End file.
